Lies
by Kaslyna
Summary: A look into AltLiv's pregnancy. Warning: don't read if you hate babygate. I do, too, but I just had to write about it. :/ Based loosely on Evanescence's song, Lies. May go into M later; dunno yet. Lincoln/AltLiv eventually, too.


**A/N: Just wow. Wow. Wow. I'm in fucking shock. Dude. :/ Okay, like, this is... I dunno what the hell this is! D: Just... go with it I guess. Bear with me. :P AltLivia/Lincoln OBVIOUSLY with MAYBE some Peter/Olivia... dunno yet. ._.**

**Disclaimer: I own zilch. **

Two days pass and she still feels numb. She knows it was always a remote possibility... but how the hell could she have been so careless? She sighs, buries her head in her hands and tries not to burst into tears for the sixth time that day. Olivia was at home, though it felt empty without Frank. She had tried to plead with him and he'd been kinder, but they both knew it was over. Olivia was in this thing too deep and Frank would never understand, even if she could tell him the truth.

She's sitting on her couch ignoring the ear cuff that's been ringing incessantly for two hours. She's in no mood to fake a smile right now. Olivia has placed a call to her mother; her mother will want to know about the baby. They've agreed to meet for dinner at her mom's place later on. Olivia will tell her then.

Frank has cleared out his stuff; he'll live in a hotel for a little while, move into a new place. The last time Olivia cried was when he came by; he hugged her and she burst into tears and told him she never meant to hurt anyone. Being who he was he whispered that he knew; but he didn't, because it wasn't just him. She'd hurt Peter and the other Olivia, too... she had screwed up.

The other her... she was broken; she knew that now, and it disgusted her to think that she'd been the final straw, the one to break her. Not because she liked the other her; she didn't know how she felt about her, but because she really did love Peter and it was painfully obvious that Peter loved the other Olivia. She wasn't stupid; Olivia knew that he'd never love her the way he loved her and that this baby was the only thing she'd get of him.

Olivia sighed, feeling the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes again. She was hungry; she padded into the kitchen. Finding nothing she liked, Olivia decided to walk over to the nearby diner for some food. She'd protect this baby and keep it healthy at all costs. Then she'd have to return to Fringe Division and explain her brief absence. No one knows about the baby; Frank's a sweet guy, too good for someone like her, and he wouldn't do that to her. He'd brood about it, and when people asked he'd tell the brief version of the truth; nothing more, nothing less.

The diner isn't too crowded when Olivia arrives, and no one pays any mind to the sad-looking redhead in baggy cargo pants. She sits at the counter and orders water and a burger, the first things she can think of. The news is on; she pays a little attention to it, but not a lot. When her food arrives, Olivia wolfs it down as quickly as she can, not realizing just how hungry she really was. A twinge of guilt passes through her; already two days into impending motherhood and she's once again screwed up. But as briefly as it comes, it fades, and Olivia is left to her thoughts and her lunch.

Once done and paid up, Olivia leaves. She walks to her building, gets her car, and leaves from Fringe Division. As expected, Charlie and Lincoln pounce on her the minute she walks in and Astrid watches coolly from afar with a bemused twinkle in her eyes.

"Where've you been, Liv?" Charlie asks, much to Lincoln's dismay; he'd wanted to play Big Bad Boss and ask her himself.

"Liv, where's your ring?" Lincoln asks, glancing at her bare left hand. A glimmer of hope forms in his belly at the sight of it, but of course this means nothing good.

"Lincoln," she says, and Charlie takes the hint and leaves, "I need to speak with you."

"Sure. My office?" he suggested.

She nodded, "Yeah. Um, so... how much has the secretary filled you in?"

"He swung by yesterday," he shrugged, "Said that you should tell me yourself."

Olivia sighed, "Okay, then. This is a long story."

"I have time," he smiled softly at her.

She sat across from him and said, "This is going to sound insane, and it is, but please hear me out, Lincoln."

He nodded seriously, "Sure."

With a deep breath, Olivia began. Once she started, she couldn't stop; it poured from her. The mission (no exact details; he was her boss, but she didn't want to upset the secretary), Peter, the Other Olivia, her cover being blown, the baby, Frank finding out.

"Wow," he finally managed to say.

"I know," she whispered softly.

"You really do love him," he murmured.

She nodded, "I don't know why. He'll never love me back. But this baby... it's my piece of him, and I already love it. I probably shouldn't but I do, Lincoln."

"Thank you for telling me, Liv," he said.

"Yeah," she bit her lip, an annoying habit her alternate had, "I, uh, guess I'll go talk with Charlie."

"What are you gonna tell him?"

She shrugs, "That Frank broke up with me because I cheated on him and I'm pregnant."

"Liv..."

She sighs, "Will you or won't you verify my story when he asks you?"

A pause, then, "I will."

"Thank you," and with that, she left.

Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose, scrubbed a hand over his face, sighed heavily. A headache was beginning to form. Oh well, not like he was going to get much work done today, anyway. Though now he has Olivia to worry about... damn, he wished he'd been less of a pain in the ass to Broyles!

It was too late now, though.

* * *

She is asleep at her desk.

It's the next day and Lincoln comes in to find Olivia asleep at her desk, head on her arms. A file is open and he sighs. She overworked herself again. He'd brought her breakfast; he doesn't know why, he just felt like he should. Lincoln walks over and leans down beside her.

"Boo," he whispers and she jumps awake, startled.

"Jesus Lincoln!" she growled as he pulled away laughing, "What the hell are you trying to do?"

"Breakfast," he explained, handing her a wrapped egg sandwich, "Not great for you but I figured you might be hungry. You're not exactly a cook, Liv."

She rolled her eyes, "Thanks. What time is it?"

"Nine."

"Damn," she sighed, "I've been asleep since what, two?"

"Why didn't you go home?"

She shrugged, "Didn't feel like it."

"Ah," he nodded, cool and casual, "Alright. Well, food."

"Thanks," she replied, ripping open the paper, "Damn, Lincoln, you didn't have to..."

"I know," he smirked, "Just want to make sure you're both taken care of. I got you a bottle of orange juice, too. You know, so you can take those horse pills."

Olivia eats fast and then winces as she swallows the damn pills. Charlie makes his entrance shortly after, in a cheerful mood that Olivia smirks at and takes advantage of, much to his chagrin and Lincoln's amusement.

Astrid comes in a little later, goes to work. She's a sweet girl, Olivia thinks randomly, then sighs. She's so off topic these days it's not even funny anymore. Apparently, pregnancy can do that to you; when she'd just been back, Olivia had assumed it was a part of getting used to her world again after so much time in the other world. But no, it was a tiny life, no bigger than her thumb (was it even that big?) that caused her to be slightly slow.

Six weeks; no set due date yet, but the doctor that had examined her told Olivia to expect the baby sometime in late July or early August. To say she's scared would be an understatement. She's scared shitless that something will go wrong or someone will hurt her and the baby. She makes a note to ask her doctor if paranoia is common with pregnancy or not.

Pregnancy. It sounds so surreal, so definite, so tangible. Olivia is more scared that this is some weird dream and that she'll wake up soon with Frank curled up beside her. But no, it's not a dream; she expects that in another seven weeks or so when she begins to show she'll realize that. For now, though, it sounds like she's some sort of incubator.

That thought makes Olivia smile a little, perhaps for the first time in the days following Frank's leaving. Just as she's settling down at her desk, a wave of nausea hits her. She closes her eyes and sits very still, willing it away.

"Liv?" Charlie asks, "Liv? You okay?"

She nods; bad move, and she grabs the trashcan to vomit into it. She feels hands in her hair, holding it back for her as she continues to dry heave. When she's sure it's over, she moves slowly to sit up, teeth clenched against whatever little remained in her stomach. Charlie's hands haven't moved yet; he's waiting for an explanation. And she's waiting to be ready to give him one.

Thankfully, Lincoln chooses that moment to come in; he assesses the scene quickly. Astrid is discreetly going to empty the trashcan; Charlie has a protective hand on Olivia's shoulder, and Olivia looks pale green.

"Liv? Think you can help me with some paperwork I found in the office? I can't understand it and I was thinking maybe you'd know something about it..." he begins.

"Sure," she got up slowly and followed after him, relieved.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, "I thought I'd get you out of there."

"Thanks," she sighed in relief, "Though I really should tell Charlie. He deserves to know."

"So? You'll tell him when you're ready to, Liv," he shrugged in response, "You looked uncomfortable out there."

"Lincoln," she shook her head, "God. What the hell am I doing?"

"I don't know," he replied with a cocky grin, "Come on, Liv. You've got me; you'll have Charlie and Astrid, too. We'll all help you with this baby."

"It takes a village, right?" she quirked an eyebrow, "I appreciate it, but I can handle this, Lincoln."

"Alright then," he shrugged nonchalantly again, "But you know where we are, Liv."

"Yeah," she nodded, "Thanks. Really."

"Feel better now?"

"Yeah, a lot."

"Good. Then get to work!" he said in his best tough-boss voice.

She rolled her eyes, smirking and replied, "Yes, _boss_."

He chuckled as she left, shaking his head from side to side. Damn, she was a piece of work; but damn, was she fine!

* * *

Days roll by; work is mundane at best, and Olivia takes time to tease Charlie mercilessly, like nothing has changed. Except it has, irrevocably; she can feel it in the tautness of her stomach, can taste in it the vomit she wakes up to. Each morning, the same; she wakes nauseous and barely makes the toilet (sometimes the sink) before hurling and dry-heaving her guts out. Still, the wonder of a baby-a tiny, innocent, unharmed, beautiful, magical life-growing within her, hidden and lovely, makes the vomiting worth it.

Before long, it's Olivia's next check up; Lincoln had offered to go with her, but she would prefer to go it alone. It's been three weeks since the day her life changed forever; at nine weeks, Olivia's breasts have grown slightly larger and the skin across her abdomen is tighter; other than that, there is no outward change in her. There's a haunted look in her eyes; the sadness of being burdened with a child she loves but doesn't want, a child born not of love, but of lies and hatred. Still, she's putting a smiling face on a bad situation; Olivia doesn't want, nor need, anyone to pity her, just because she's an unwed single mother and a workaholic. This baby may have been unplanned and unwanted, but it sure as hell wouldn't be unloved. She was filled with so many doubts and fears and so much anger and hope and sadness it confused her; still, she knew the day she held her child in her arms for the first time would surely be the happiest of her life, no matter what happened, good or bad.

She lay on the exam table and tried not to fret too much. She felt like every other expectant mother; cliché and out of her mind with fear and worry; and yet, she was not at all like them, because Olivia Dunham wasn't meant to have this baby. This baby wasn't meant to be; she knew that. She knew that and yet, she couldn't help loving this child, selfishly, because it'd be her only connection to Peter, the one person who could possibly save her.

In comes the OB/GYN that she's using, Dr. Maura Harrison. She's a cheerful, short, plump woman who stares at Olivia intently until she's uncomfortable and nauseous. Olivia had opted out of seeing a doctor recommended by the Secretary; she had gently but firmly informed him that all decisions pertaining to this pregnancy were to be made solely by her, and that if he wished to give her input, that was fine, but this was her baby and she intended to treat it as such. He'd gotten an amused look on his face, sighed, and given into her. Olivia suspected he thought she'd cave eventually; maybe she will. Either way, she's immensely angry and annoyed with him; she's so confused and sad, and it's all because of that stupid man and his damn mission. Why, oh why, did she agree?

Olivia's not an idiot. She knows that while she shouldn't have been so stupid to have agreed with the man's crazy plan, she never would have met and fallen in love with Peter Bishop, nor would she have become pregnant and scatterbrained.

"Any concerns, Miss Dunham?" Dr. Harrison's voice snaps her back to reality.

"No," she shakes her head, "Well. Is paranoia and being unable to focus common with pregnancy?" 

The doctor nodded slowly, "Yes, so long as it doesn't get too extreme. Is that all?"

"Thank you," Olivia sighed in relief, "That's all."

"Great. I think we can wait a little more time. I'd like to see you in five weeks, Miss Dunham. I'll leave you to get changed; please make an appointment for then. Have a nice day," Dr. Harrison tells her before leaving.

Once dressed, Olivia goes to the lobby and makes an appointment with the receptionist for January 21; by then, Olivia will be fourteen weeks along and the thought makes her breathless with fear and anticipation. Oddly enough, Olivia cannot _wait_ for the belly burgeoning to begin.

It's all she has left of the man she loves, after all.


End file.
